Crossing to the other side of the Thames he started to fish for a while.
But the fish were not biting well just then, and after bringing up one small stickleback, a fish very common to England's streams, he drew in his lines and gave it up.
Close to where the rowboat rode was a grassy bank, filled with moss and several species of ferns, and presently Robert jumped ashore to investigate.
"Those ferns are very pretty," he thought. "I guess I'll dig some up, put them in a flowerpot and place them in one of our windows. I am certain Mrs. Vernon will be pleased to watch them grow."
He was prowling around, and had already dug up half a dozen ferns and some moss to wrap them in, when he discovered the smoke drifting over the village.
"That looks pretty close to our boarding house," he said to himself. "Can it be possible that it is Mrs. Barlow's place?"
Much alarmed, he leaped into his boat and seized the oars. A few strokes took him well out into the stream, and then he made out that it was the boarding house beyond the possibility of a doubt.
With desperate energy he began to row for the nearest landing to the house.
"If only Mrs. Vernon is safe," he said to himself, over and over again.
He knew only too well how badly she was suffering from rheumatism, and also knew that at this time of day she was probably lying down trying to catch a nap.